"They are trying Cape Farewell again: that is my guess."
"It might well be, if defense has been relaxed."
Casmir nodded thoughtfully. "Just so."
"Another possibility. Each ship has been supplied with a heavy grapple and hawser."
Casmir leaned back in his chair. "What purpose would these serve? They can't expect a naval battle."
"They might hope to prevent one. They are taking aboard firepots. And remember, south wind blows them up the River Sime."
"To the shipyards?" Casmir was instantly aroused. "To the new ships?"
Valdez raised the cup of wine to his crooked slash of a mouth. "I can only report facts. The Troice are preparing to attack, with a hundred ships and at least five thousand troops, well armed."
Casmir muttered. "Bait Bay is guarded, but not that well. They could work disaster if they took us by surprise. How can I know when their first fleet puts to sea?"
"Beacons are chancy. If one fails, through fog or rain, the whole system fails. In any case there is no time to set up such a chain. Pigeons will not fly a hundred miles of water. I know no other system, save those propelled by magic."
Casmir jumped to his feet. He dropped a leather purse upon the table. "Return to Troicinet. Send me news as often as practical."
Valdez lifted the purse and seemed satisfied by its weight. "I will do so."
Casmir returned to Haidion, and within the hour couriers rode from Lyonesse Town at speed. The Dukes of Jong and Twarsbane were ordered to take armies, knights and armored cavalry to Cape Farewell, to reinforce the garrison already on the scene. Other troops, in the number of eight thousand, were despatched in haste to the Sime River shipyards, and everywhere along the coast watches were set. The harbors were sealed and all boats restricted to moorings (save that single vessel which would carry Valdez back to Troicinet), in order that spies might not apprise the Troice that the forces of Lyonesse had been mobilized against the secret assault.
The winds shifted south and eighty ships with six thousand soldiers took departure. Leaning to the port tack they sailed into the west. Passing through the Straits of Palisidra, the fleet kept well to the south, beyond the purview of Casmir's vigilant garrisons, then swung north, to coast easily downwind, with blue water gurgling under the bows and surging up behind the transoms.
Meanwhile, Troice emissaries traversed the length and breadth of South Ulfland. To cold castles along the moors, to walled towns and mountain keeps, they brought news of the new king and his ordinances which must now be obeyed. Often they won immediate and grateful acquiescence; as often they were forced to overcome hatreds fomented by the murders, treacheries and torments of centuries. These were emotions so bitter as to dominate all other thought: feuds which were to the participants as water to a fish, vengeances and hoped-for vengeances so sweet as to obsess the mind. In such cases logic had no power. ("Peace in Ulfland? There shall be no peace for me until Keghorn Keep is broken stone by stone and Melidot blood soaks the rubble!") Thereupon, the envoys used tactics more direct. "You must, for your own security, put aside these hatreds. A heavy hand rules Ulfland, and if you will not conform to the order, you will find your enemies in favor, with the might of the realm at their call, and you will pay a hard price for worthless goods."
"Ha hmm. And who is to rule Ulfland?"
"King Aillas already rules, by right and might, and the old bad times are gone. Make your choice! Join with your peers and bring peace to this land, or you will be named renegade! Your castle will be taken and burned; you, if you survive, will live out your life as a thrall, with your sons and daughters. Cast your lot with us; you cannot but gain."
Thereupon, the person so addressed might try to procrastinate, or declare himself concerned only with his own domain, without interest in the land at large. If his nature were cautious, he might assert that he must wait to see how others conducted themselves. To each case the envoy replied: "Choose now! You are either with us in law, or against us, as an outlaw! There is no middle way!" In the end almost all the gentry of South Ulfland gave acquiescence to the demands, if only out of hatred for Faude Carfilhiot. They arrayed themselves in their ancient armor, mustered their troops, and rode out from their old keeps with banners fluttering above their heads, to assemble on the field near Cleadstone Castle.
In his workroom Faude Carfilhiot sat absorbed in the moving figures on his map. What could such a conclave portend? Certainly nothing to his advantage. He summoned his captains and sent them riding down the valley to mobilize his army.
Two hours before dawn the wind died and the sea became calm. With Ys close at hand the sails were brailed and the oarsmen bent their backs to the sweeps. Point Istaia and the Temple of Atlante interposed their silhouettes across the pre-dawn sky; the ships slid over pewter water, close by the steps descending from the temple to the sea, then turned where the beach curved down from the north into the estuary of the Evander and grounded upon the sand to discharge troops, then the transports eased close up to the docks at Ys to unload cargo.
From their garden terraces the factors of Ys watched the debarkation with no more than languid interest, and the folk of the town went about their affairs, as if incursions from the sea were a daily occurrence.
At the balustrade of her own palace Melancthe watched the ships arrive. Presently she turned and slipped into the dim interior of her palace.
Sir Glide of Fairsted, with a single companion took horse and rode at speed up the vale, through fields and orchards, with mountains rising steep to right and left. Through a dozen villages and hamlets the two men rode, with no one giving so much as curiosity to their passage.
The mountains converged upon the valley which finally terminated under that flat-topped height known as Tac Tor, with Tintzin Fyral to the side. A taint on the air grew ever stronger and presently the two riders discovered the source: six poles fifty feet tall, supporting as many impaled corpses.
The road passing under the poles crossed a meadow which displayed further evidences of Carfilhiot's severity toward his enemies: a gantry twenty feet high from which hung four men with heavy stones dangling from their feet. Beside each stood a marker, measured off in inches.
A sentry-house guarded the way. A pair of soldiers in the black and purple of Tintzin Fyral marched out to cross halberds. A captain followed them and spoke to Sir Glide. "Sir, why do you make approach to Tintzin Fyral?"
"We are a deputation in the service of King Aillas," said Sir Glide. "We request a conference with Sir Faude Carfilhiot, and we solicit the safety of his protection before, during and after this conference, in order to achieve the full freedom of our expression."
The captain performed a somewhat casual salute. "Sirs, I will transmit your message at once." He mounted a horse and rode up a narrow way cut so as to traverse the cliff. The two soldiers continued to bar the road with crossed halberds.
Sir Glide spoke to one of the guards. "You have served Sir Faude Carfilhiot over a long period?"
"Only a year, sir."
"Your nationality is Ulf ?"
"North Ulf, sir."
Sir Glide indicated the gantry. "What is the reason for this exercise?"
The guard gave an indifferent shrug. "Sir Faude is persecuted by the gentry of the region; they will not abide his rule. We scour the land, keen as wolves, and whenever they go abroad, to hunt or inspect their lands, we take them into custody. And then Sir Faude makes an example to deter and frighten the others."
"His punishments show ingenuity."
Again the guard shrugged. "It makes no great difference. One way or another it is death. And simple hangings or even impalings at last become a bore for all concerned."